by Anna Bradley
Once he was put on a strict allowance, Uncle Jarvis’s behavior had improved dramatically. Lucy had never known him to be so obedient, but it wasn’t so surprising, really. Uncle Jarvis had never cared for anything as much as he did his own comfort.
But Lucy hardly thought of her uncle at all these days. She was far too taken up by her life with Ciaran to spare him a thought.
“Good.” Ciaran turned his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to Lucy’s palm. She sighed at the warm press of his mouth, and he looked down at her, eyes gleaming. “It’s getting late.”
Lucy glanced toward the window. “It’s not yet dusk.”
Ciaran raised her hand to his lips and, one by one, pressed warm kisses to each of her fingertips. “Quadrille lessons are over, Lucy. Come to bed.”
“Ah. So that was meant to be the quadrille, then?” Lucy gave him a playful smile. “How curious. I don’t remember it being anything like that at Thomas Wilson’s Dancing Academy.”
Ciaran was already drawing her toward the door. “This is how we dance the quadrille at the Wallflower Gallant’s Dancing Academy.”
Lucy rose to her tiptoes and brushed her lips over the hollow of his throat. “I see. I can’t imagine you have many pupils, with such a scandalous quadrille as that.”
“Just one.” Ciaran captured her chin in his hand and raised her face to his. He gazed down at her, his blue eyes soft with love. “And she’s the only one who matters.”
